


Those In Need

by Draiochta



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Modern Day Merlin, Reincarnations of Characters, Use of foul language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 16:04:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8759722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Draiochta/pseuds/Draiochta
Summary: A little girl is shoved on the subway. Merlin always did dislike bullies. And old age has not tempered his sense of the extremes.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For Megan, because she saved my life more times than imaginable, and because I love her.

Aisha was on the L-Train holding her grandmama’s hand when the train was jostled and Aisha was pulled away from her grandmama and stumbled into a man in a suit that looked like it could cut people to pieces. “Stupid nigger bitch.” He snarled and shoved her away, into the knees of someone else.  
This one, though, steadied her, warm hands pulling her to her feet, and he crouched to her level.  
“Are you alright, then?” He asked, checking her over.  
“‘M fine.” The little girl said, tears pooling in her eyes anyways. “I tried to say sorry!”  
“I know, wee one. The world is full of bastards like that .  
The swear made her giggle even through her tears. “Your voice sounds funny.”  
“Does it? Maybe it’s your voice that sounds funny,” The man’s grin was wide and kind and he seemed genuinely happy to talk to her. “Didj’a think of that?”  
“I like yours better.” Aisha said, determined. “It goes up and down and it’s nice. It’s like singing.”  
“Well, I’ve sure done a lot of singing in my day. Now, who did this?” His long fingers brushed very lightly over the nasty bruise mottling over her cheekbone. She flinched away hard. “Nobody!” Her eyes and voice told the truth, though.  
“Alright, then, love, alright. You know what though?”  
“What?” She asked cautiously.  
“If you’d just take a look at that there dollophead who shoved you…”  
He pointed, and Aisha’s eyes went wide as the man’s nose slowly formed into a pig-like snout.  
“OH MY GOSH!” She stage-whispered. The man with the blue shirt and red scarf laughed quietly and put his finger to his lips.  
“See? I’m unbelievably good at keeping secrets.”  
Eyes still wide, she nodded, transfixed with the suit’s nose.  
“So you could trust me, if you like.”  
Aisha’s attention turned back to him, suspicious.  
“That’s a nasty broken bone there.”  
“I know.” The matter-of-fact statement had the man's hackles rising. But his voice was still calm and friendly when he asked what happened.  
Aisha ducked her head and her small voice was smaller when she said “I’m not allowed to say.”  
“Hmmm…” The man tapped his fingers rhythmically on the seat he’d set her on.  
“Well, that’s alright, but I’ve kept a secret for _nine hundred years_.” His raised eyebrows and low close voice was mischievous.  
“O...kay. I, I guess.”  
“So, then?” He turned it into a question.  
“My stepdad drinks a lot. And his friends do too. And sometimes they come home smelling like blood. They get mad at me, and I never know why.” Her eyes went narrow and her nose wrinkled.  
“You kinda smell like blood.” She looked ready to bolt, and he still didn’t see her grandmother, so he kept his voice low and calm, so as not to spook the little girl into running off and getting lost.  
“Well, I’m a rather bad man.” He told her. “And I make other bad men go away, if I get paid for it.”  
Aisha cocked her head, the beads at the ends of her braids clacking together. “How much?”  
“Well, it depends on the man, now, doesn’t it? Why, do you know someone who needs killing?”  
She stared at him a moment, as if considering.”Maybe.”  
“Well then.” He drew out a shiny business card with only a P.O. Box address on it. “Here. Just in case you decide.”  
She nodded, and tucked the card into the side pocket of her back pack.  
“Now, lass, about that poor face of yours.”  
She reached up and lightly touched the bruise swelling under her eye. “Grandmama and I are going to the hospital. But I’m scared because we don’t have any money. I saw her crying earlier, because we might have to skip rent and I’d rather have broke bones than be homeless and and Grandmama works so hard already and…” and the tears welling in her pretty brown eyes spilled over down her cheeks.  
“I understand that well enough. It’s hard to be scared and brave at the same time, isn’t it?"  
Aisha nodded, and he handed her the handkerchief from his pocket. “Why don’t you check your backpack when you get to the hospital, and I think some of your fear will go away.”  
She peered at him with eyes too old to belong to an eight-year-old.  
“Why would my backpack make me not afraid?”  
He smiled an impish smile, and tapped the side of his nose. “Because of magic, Aisha. There’s still a bit left in the world. There you are, now. Can’t have your grandmum see your tears, can we?”  
“Aisha Guinevere! Thank God! Are you alright, sweetheart?”  
“I’m okay. I fell, and it hurt, but the man helped me.” She looked around for the man in the blue shirt and red scarf, but he was nowhere to be seen.

 

When they got to the hospital, Aisha peeked in her bag, just to satisfy her curiosity, and her breath caught in her chest. “Grandmama!”  
Her grandmother looked over to see what the fuss was, and tears filled her eyes when she saw the wrapped stacks of hundred dollar bills. It was more than enough for the hospital bills, plus several months of rent.  
She gripped her granddaughter’s hand with surprising strength in her wizened, crooked hands.. “You tell no one about this, child. Not your momma, and especially not your step-daddy. No. One.”  
“Yes, Grandmama. No-one knows.”  
Aisha wondered if she could keep a secret for nine hundred years.

 

 

 

The man from the train followed them to the hospital, and then home, just to keep an eye on things. He always did like to meddle. He watched the old woman withstand the abuse and vitriol from her daughter’s husband. He watched her hide the money in the hollow of loose bricks, and conjured it so that it would never run empty.  
He watched his heart break all over again.  
He didn’t hope for much these days, though he always kept an eye on the reincarnations of his dead friends. But the Dolma had been very clear when they came to him: he could only meddle so much until Arthur came back. He could only help when he was invoked. But rules were never his strong suit so he made the business cards, enchanted then so that the bearer would call to him when they needed him most.  
So now he hoped. He wished the little girl with the old eyes and beads in her hair would write to him before the awful man he had to leave her with hurt her beyond his help,because he Could. Not. Stand. To see the abuse of a child, especially a child who had been his friend hundreds of years ago. Especially Guinevere. He’d promised, hadn’t he?  
He stayed there, spying as long as he could before attracting the attention of the Dolma. And he had to turn away, even as much as it tore at his soul to do so. With a heavy heart, he turned and walked away. 

 

 

 

Four months later, there was a letter in his mailbox with a child’s carefully written address on it. He opened it to find $17.05 and a small note. 

_“I know it’s not enough, but it’s all I have. He hurts us. He almost killed my brother. No one else will help. Please. Please help us.  
Aisha”_

 

Merlin’s smile was not a nice one. It was a wolf’s smile, feral and hungry.  
It was time he made another visit to the states.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm easily found on Tumblr, at thekingofhellismymistress.tumblr.com   
> I'm basically a mess, so there's that...


End file.
